


Chaser Lights and Chasing Hearts

by Tish



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1950s New York. Jon and Stephen have their own tv show and have their hands full with a circus-like cast and crew, not to mention a watchful network. Who the hell's got time to fall in love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaser Lights and Chasing Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the FNFF Secret Santa 2011.

 

Rachel tapped the table with her pen. It wasn't a loud sound, given the amount of noise going on in the meeting room, but it was enough to get everyone's attention. The room quietened and Rachel caught Jon's admiring look. She smiled and announced, "Good morning, and welcome to the circus for another day. Miss Vowell, would you like to tell us the first item on the agenda?"  
  
Sarah looked down at her notebook, "Ah yes, the reaction to last night's in-program advertisement," she paused and glanced up, waiting for the giggles to subside before adding, "the one that ran for eleven minutes. Nine minutes past the contractually obligated time, and the one which veered off script so badly, that nobody had any idea of which product the advertisement was supposed to be, you know, advertising."  
  
As she finished, a rousing cheer went up from the writers, lounging on the couches and at the far end of the table.  
  
Stephen's smile had developed to an absolute sunbeam by the time the production assistant had finished speaking, accompanied by Jon's dolphin-like giggle.  
  
Rachel put on her stern face, "Dealing with the other advertisers last night and up to three minutes before this meeting was a nightmare. Half of them demanded equal time for their in-house ads, the other half were shocked and appalled at how a product could be so defiled by two comedians."  
  
Jon nodded, intoning gravely, "Shocked and appalled. Indeed. I'm shocked and appalled that gambling is going on in this establishment."  
  
Rachel smiled, "Yeah, I know, I know."  


 

*****

  
  
"Feels like old times, doesn't it?" Stephen smiled as he caught Paul's balls.  
  
Paul laughed, adding another ball to the juggling, "I should add a chainsaw or something. Make it more exciting."  
  
"It'd make a damn good trick, juggling with a bloodied stump," Stephen replied.  
  
Aasif yelled back, "Hey, you want to come and check this set-up?"  
  
Paul pulled on the long pieces of fabric, then started climbing barefoot up one, right up to where it was attached to the rigging, calling down, "This'll hold five men, grab hold and give it a try."  
  
Stephen held out a hand to let Aasif go first, then kicked off his shoes and pulled himself up.  
  
"Hey, this is fun!" Aasif laughed.  
  
Stephen giggled, "You've got a hole in your socks."  
  
"Better than having a hole in your head," Aasif retorted with a laugh. "So, do you just hang around and pretend to be curtains, or is there more to the act?"  
  
Twisting two of the curtains around his ankles, Paul slid himself upside down and grinned at Aasif, "Just wait until we put our tights on, we'll show you, daddio!"  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, Jon sat down in the audience section, intrigued by the idea of a curtain act. He twisted round at a dragging sound as Rachel shepherded in some stage hands who were pulling and pushing a large sports mattress into place under the curtains.  
  
"Rachel, did you steal that from a pole vaulter? Is some poor guy perched on top of his pole, trying to stay balanced and not fall on his face from a great height?" Jon laughed.  
  
"It's the studio's, Jon. I turfed off a bunch of shirking stage hands sunning themselves on it," Rachel smiled.  
  
Aasif came up to Jon, grinning as he held up the ring-master's hat. Tucked into the side was a large card with _In this style 10/6_ written on it.  
  
“How apt,” Jon smiled.  
  
  
  
Amy poked her head through the stage curtains, "Ohhh, an audience!" She pranced on-stage, a vision of white in a tutu and angel wings. "You should've got a bouncy castle!"  
  
Rachel chuckled, "I'm just thinking of your safety, okay? You could have fallen on the bouncy turrets and impaled yourself in a somewhat ironic accident."  
  
Amy giggled, "See, you think of everything, that's why you're the producer!" She clambered onto the mattress and pulled herself up the curtain, slowly circling round, arranging the curtains to make a seat for herself.  
  
Jon gazed at her in silent amazement, only distracted by something cluttering to the ground as Paul climbed up to join her. His red tights had a devil's tail attached and he poked her with the end of it.  
Amy snorted a laugh, poking his one devil's horn, "You've lost something, baby!"  
  
Rachel went over and picked up the broken hair slide with the horn, "Maybe try sticking them on a single hair band, instead?"  
  
Jon pulled a clipboard over his lap. He didn't consider himself a muscles queen, but having only ever seen Paul in a suit or sweaters, he was caught by surprise. He tried to keep his breathing even as he stared at Paul.  
  
"Started without me, huh?" Stephen's voice jolted through Jon.  
  
Jon squirmed guiltily, stifling a moan as he shifted his gaze to Stephen. Not as muscular as Paul, but still, _day-um_ , as the kids these days said.  
  
  
As Stephen walked on-stage, Rachel yelped in shock, "Stephen, did you stuff a sock down there?!"  
  
Jon nearly leapt out of his seat as Stephen walked fully into his view, white tights leaving very little to the imagination. _Holy crap, the man's hung like a donkey_ , he thought.  
  
Stephen stopped and scowled, "I wear socks on my feet, my good lady. What do you take me for, a sock stuffer?"  
  
As Rachel sat back down, bemused and slightly blushing, Paul called down, "Yeah, that's all Stephen."  
  
Amy's snorting laughter confirmed this fact.  
  
Rachel finally found her voice, "At least for the show, wear a pair of black tights, and try and find some sort of athletic support. Please? We don't want to frighten the horses, okay?"  
  
  
Jon spent the rest of rehearsal in a mixture of enjoyment and anxiety. Distracted as he was by Paul doing things with his legs that no human should be able to do, Jon's gaze kept being drawn back to Stephen. Jon tried to keep his expression neutral, tried not to stare at Stephen for too long, but it was just too damned tempting. He mused on the premise of the skit - Man being tempted between good and evil, a battle which would leave one defeated and bound by the curtains. A shiver ran down Jon's spine as he found Paul intently staring at him, almost to his very soul.  
  
Heart pounding with fear, and clipboard still pressed against him, Jon make a quick exit.  
  
  
Jon didn't know how long he'd been holed up in the stationery room, sitting against the cool brick wall in the dark. His migraine had receded and he was left with a dull anxiety headache. He opened his eyes as the door opened and the light flicked on. Peering round the filing cabinet and through a gap in the shelving unit, Jon stared and his heart started pounding again.  
  
"Fuck, Paul. You're the best friend I could have," Stephen moaned as he locked the door and pushed Paul against the wall.  
  
"I dunno why I bothered to put my pants back on," Paul laughed, as Stephen knelt and tackled his belt and zipper.  
  
"Jesus, it's the tights thing, isn't it? You gonna be this horny again after we do it on the show? You want me waiting here on stand-by?" Paul asked, before hissing sharply as Stephen went to work.  
  
In between breaths and licks, Stephen gasped, "I've had it bad all day. He's been on my mind."  
  
Paul bit his lip, "You should talk to Jon. I _mean_ it. You might be surprised in a good way... Oh fuck that's good!"  
  
Stephen stopped and stared up at Paul, "Seriously? Just go up to him and say, _Jon, I keep fantasising about you pounding me over your desk, with everyone outside waiting for the production meeting to start._ "  
  
Shocked, Jon jolted in his corner, an elbow slamming against the filing cabinet.  
  
Stephen wiped his lips as he put his glasses back on and stared back at Jon. Paul slowly leant over to see who their unintended voyeur was, then sat on the floor, silently relieved.  
  
"Well, this is awkward," Stephen finally spoke.  
  
  
The three of them sat in a line against the brickwork, Jon alternately sobbing and laughing, Stephen with one arm around his shoulder, Paul on the other end, pouring out more Scotch from the hiding place in the filing cabinet.  
  
Jon chugged his drink, then took a deep breath, "I'm normally much more careful in public. Glances, pretending to look at something else. You all wear glasses, I didn't think you'd see me watching. Then Paul was suddenly staring right at me. Scared the shit out of me. I just saw those guys, you know the type, the ones who found you out then beat the crap out of you."  
  
"Yeah, I nearly fell off the rope-work when I saw the way you were staring. You looked hungry for it, then you suddenly freaked and disappeared," Paul refilled Jon's drink. "I'm sorry, Jon."  
  
Stephen gently rubbed Jon's neck, "Paul's okay. He only looks like a thug, he's got a couple of brain cells to balance out the muscles, though."  
  
"Just a few," Paul smiled. "Muscles help stop getting your lunch money stolen."  
  
"Or being shoved in a locker," Stephen added.  
  
"Yeah, the one nobody claimed, that got filled with all the rotten bananas." Jon chuckled, clinking his glass against the others, "Here's to the geeks, the weirdos and the queers."  
  


 

_A few weeks later..._

  
  
Amy settled back, one hand gripping the water pipe that ran along the wall, bracing herself as she pushed Paul down onto his knees. He smiled up at her as he moved his hands up her legs and under her skirt. With one hand under her thigh, he ducked under her skirt, hooking her knee over his shoulder. As he began to get busy under there, she smoothed her skirt down and threw her head back, eyes closed.  
  
The door to the wardrobe room opened and Stephen and Jon walked in. Stephen crossed to the rack of suit jackets, pulling one out, "The check one looks better, Jon."  
  
"I dunno, wouldn't it be funnier with the tuxedo jacket?" Jon shrugged.  
  
Stephen pushed some of the jackets apart, smiling as he saw Amy, "Hey Amy!"  
  
Amy grinned like a Cheshire Cat, "Hi boys."  
  
Jon leaned across and looked in at Amy, "Hi, you fixing the pipe?"  
  
Amy responded with a throaty laugh, "I'm getting something fixed, baby!"  
  
Stephen laughed, adding, "Hey Paul!"  
  
From the depths of Amy's skirt, something approaching Paul's voice replied a hello, causing a delighted gasp to escape from Amy's lips.  
  
Stephen tutted, "Don't talk with your mouth full, young man."  
  
Jon blinked in confusion, then noticed Amy's flamingo impersonation and that her legs weren't the only ones under her skirt. He stammered, "Oh. Uh uh. Oh Jesus," then started to giggle and dragged Stephen away.  
  
Stephen winked at Amy and drew the jackets back like a curtain, laughing as Amy began to moan loudly. He paused to scoop up her discarded underwear and stuffed the panties in his jacket's handkerchief pocket.  
  
Outside, Jon bit his lip to stop giggling, his face flushed, "I can't believe that just happened. I'm confused, I thought Paul was, you know..."  
  
"He's not fussy where he gets it. Makes me horny for some action," Stephen purred.  
  
Jon blushed again, checking to make sure no one was around to hear, "As long as it's somewhere with a lockable door."  
  
"My office or yours?" came the whispered reply.  
  


 

*****

  
  
The writers crowded around the craft table, their inner starving artists urging them to stock up on food and coffee. One of Maslow's basic needs sated, they moved over to settle on the long couches for the production meeting.  
  
The tall figure from the station scowled at the table, stopping Larry as he started to walk away, "This place is a mess! Get it cleaned up."  
  
Larry shrugged, "Don't worry, Mr. O'Reilly. Jay's on the roster today. He'll do it after the meeting."  
  
O'Reilly frowned in confusion as Larry sat down next to Amy, taking a bite from the cupcake she proffered.  
  
Kristen placed a cup of coffee and a cupcake at O'Reilly's place, then sat down next to Larry, subtly snuggling closer to him, notepad at the ready. O'Reilly shook his head and sat down opposite Jon.  
  
Jon smiled, "Don't worry, BillO, you can go out to the plantation later with your whip."  
  
BillO's withering look was lost as Jon turned at Stephen's call, "Hey, the new owner's here!"  
  
  
Jon joined Stephen and Rachel at the office's window wall, as they watched the very rich man walk out of the elevator with his assistant, escorted by Sam.  
  
Stephen clapped his hands with glee, "Sarah, get another chair. A comfortable one! Oh God, he's actually coming out of his gold-encrusted lair to hob-nob with us unworthy scum!"  
  
Lurking a few paces behind the owner, Sam mouthed to the watchers, " _Oh my God, it's actually him!_ "  
  
  
Mr. Hodgman smiled and twirled up the ends of his moustache as he entered the room, "Oh please, don't stand on ceremony, sit down." He waved away Sarah as she motioned him to the comfortable chair, instead sitting down on the end of the couch, patting Paul's knee as he sat down next to him.  
  
"Please, carry on with your meeting. Just ignore me," Mr. Hodgman softly announced, nodding to his companion, "If I may, I'll have my assistant hand these out first."  
  
Wyatt brought out an ornate cigar box, walked to the head of the table and offered the contents to Rachel first.  
Rachel smiled and shook her head, "That's very thoughtful but I don't smoke." She stopped, noticing the contents and pulled out a lollipop. "Oh. Thank you. That's different," she giggled.  
  
Stephen grinned, "I've got a red one!"  
  
The writers gleefully scrambled over each other to grab their lollipops. A chorus of polite _thank you_ s went around the room.  
  
Jon smiled at his blue confection, grinned even more at Mr. O'Reilly's flummoxed expression, settling back to a blissful smile as Stephen tapped his candy against Jon's.  
  


 

*****

  
  
"I want to take him home, Jon," Stephen pleaded, unable to tear his eyes from the dashingly handsome young comedian.  
  
"What, for dinner?" Jon laughed.  
  
"Jon, just look at him. Those chocolatey eyes, that adorable smile, I just want to wrap him up in chocolate and eat him up," Stephen moaned.  
  
Jon fake pouted, "So you want to bang him?"  
  
"No! I just want to cuddle him like a human puppy," came the hushed reply.  
  
Jon smiled, "There I was, thinking you just wanted to do dirty, dirty things to him." He sneaked a kiss onto Stephen's cheek, chuckling as Stephen leaned into him, eyes still glued on the young man.  
  
"Oh God, he's coming over!" Stephen squealed, rapidly turning on his most charming smile and extending a welcoming hand, "Mister Jimmy Fallon, so good to finally meet this hot new talent. Welcome!"  
  
  
The sight of Amy dressed up as a teenage boy was distracting enough for Jimmy. What made it worse was the twinkle in her eye that warned of an imminent diversion from the script.  
  
Next step up the ladder was Jon dressed as the mom of the family. This was only compounded by his adding a Jewish grandmother schtick to his delivery.  
  
The warning sounds grew louder as Paul, the teenage daughter, and Jimmy's girlfriend in the skit, pouted up his soft, pillowy lips. Something in the back of Jimmy's mind told him that Paul would try anything for a laugh, no matter how dangerous or career threatening. He'd damn well enjoy it, too.  
  
What finally corpsed Jimmy was the merest arch of an eyebrow from daddy Stephen. Jimmy disintegrated in a giggle fit, unable to finish his line. Stephen reached forward, gently holding Jimmy's giggling face and hugged him, as Paul started doing his interpretation of the Can-Can, which mostly involved pulling up his voluminous skirt and flashing at Amy. Her response was to start pummelling him with the sofa cushions.  
  
Chaos erupted as the audience, realising they were witnessing a perfect comedy moment, cheered and applauded uproariously.  
  
  
Up in the control room, Lewis slapped the console, laughing his ass off. "Jason, fuck it. Keep rolling!"  
  
Jason could barely hear through the headset, despite Lewis' usual volume. He nodded and gave the "keep going" signal.  
  
In the middle of the giggling cast, Jon stepped toward the camera waving his arms, "That's it. We're done, stick a fork in us!"  
  
Camera three caught him collapsing in a giggling heap into Jason's arms, as Lewis finally threw to the commercial break.  
  


 

*****

  
  
Jon watched the city from his perch on the window sill. A brick was snagging on the fabric of his pants, but he didn't notice, or would have cared. He loved watching the city change as night drew in - the commuters going home, the night people coming out to work or play, the yellow paintwork of the taxicabs gleaming in the bright lights. The night glossed over the uglier side of the city and painted it like a cheap hooker, but still Jon loved it and wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
He heard Stephen's soft footsteps on the carpet come up behind him in the dark, and he half turned, a smile in welcome. Stephen stood right behind him and came in close, gently stroking Jon's arm.  
  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Jon asked.  
  
"Yeah, you're fucking gorgeous," Stephen replied, head nuzzling against Jon's as he watched the lights chase each other round a billboard.  


 

The End.


End file.
